


begin again

by reddoorandlemontree



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Will add more tags with each chapter, a dash of rhaella talk, and a whole lot of pillowtalk, because fuck D&D, has nothing to do with the rom-com begin again lol i just couldn't think of a title, long ass chapter titles provided by miss bey, season 8????? i don't know her, you got a lil hurt and comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddoorandlemontree/pseuds/reddoorandlemontree
Summary: here's a collection of moments and conversations that i was so excited to see on screen before that shit-show aired yay





	1. i love you even more than who i thought you were before

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter takes place right after the courtyard scene in 8x01 because i needed dany to have a real, honest reaction to the news about viserion.

It hurts him, physically hurts him as if his heart is tearing in two, to see her cry so.

Tears seep through his cotton shirt with another hiccuping sob and he pulls her closer beneath the furs. He lays her atop himself to engulf her in his arms and helplessly hopes that it will help ebb the pain of losing her son — or rather finding out he hasn’t even been granted the peace of death and dreading the inevitability that she will have to see him die once more, but by _ her _ hand this time.

Her head lifts off his chest then, a curtain of silver hiding her face until he gently smooths the strands back, tucking a few behind each red-tipped ear.

She smiles in thanks — _ gods, _her smile, a sad, weak little thing that has him wanting to cry with her — and lifts a hand to wipe at her swollen, wet eyes.

He’s about to apologize again, for agreeing to that stupid mission and for having Gendry send that stupid raven and for everything that is unfair in this stupid world when a jarring knock sounds from the door.

“Jon? You in there?” _ Sam. _

Against him, he feels Dany stiffen and sigh, not wanting any part of the world outside these four walls just yet, a feeling he understands all too well.

“Not now, Sam,” he calls, running his hands up her arms, down her back, and up again to ease the tension there.

“Well, see, it’s actually quite important so if we could just….”

He sighs, tuning out the rest as tired violet eyes find his. She rolls off of him, silently encouraging him to go, and curls into herself, looking so very small under the furs like that.

“I’ll tell him to go away,” he whispers, sealing the promise with a tender kiss before making his way over to the door, careful to only open it a crack.

“Oh! Were you sleeping?” Sam asks, seeming genuinely surprised to find him in such a state mid-afternoon.

“What’s the matter? Can it wait until supper?” Jon says instead.

“Not exactly, I'm afraid. It’s best if you know now.” Suddenly deep in thought, he adds, “Yes, best to know now, I should think.”

“Is there news on the Army of the Dead?”

“No.”

“Is something the matter with Gilly or Little Sam?”

“No.”

“Is it about my sisters or Bran, then?”

“No. Well… not truly but I suppose it affects everyone to a—“

With an impatient roll of his eyes, Jon goes to bid him farewell and shut the door but Sam rushes to stop him with a hand firmly pressed above the handle.

“When we were at the Citadel, Gilly found a book,” he blurts out, seeming almost _ nervous _for some reason.

“You’re here to talk about a bloody _ book_?” _ There’s Dany, in absolute agony, and you want to keep me away for longer over a _ book_?_

“Well it’s wasn’t just a book, you see, it was High Septon Maynard’s diary. It’s quite boring actually but—“

“Sam, if it’s important, just get on with it.”

“May I come in?” He asks suddenly, his hand pushing the door open just a bit more before Jon can react.

Behind him, Dany gasps and his reflexes kick in, a hand darting out to halt the door from opening further.

“Wha— do you have a _ girl _in there?”

Jon doesn’t even attempt to answer or deflect, only clicks the door all the way shut with a firm, “Goodbye, Sam.”

Returning to his bed, he mumbles a sincere apology before climbing in beside her, reaching out to pull her body closer to his until she stops him with a hand to his chest.

“You should go,” she whispers, voice frayed. “He needs you.”

_ You need me more, _he almost says but knows it’s not true. He’s the reason why she’s mourning in the first place, even though she would vehemently disagree were he to say it aloud. And besides, she’s too resilient, too incredibly strong to ever wholly depend on someone, _ need _ someone in such a way, and so he says, “I need to be here with you more,” instead, punctuating it with a kiss to the back of her hand.

Her eyes, so vulnerable in that moment, fill once more but she does not let the tears fall this time. Instead, she kisses his lips sweetly and says, “Just hold me.”

And he would do so forever if he could.


	2. lone ear pressed against the walls of your world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this picks up after jaime arrives and the dothraki throw him in a cell when they realize he came without the army cersei promised. they come straight to dany and she tries to find jon to go address the whole thing but can't so she just goes alone. hint: our boy just found out who is parents are and is having an existential crisis somewhere.

“You plundered the Reach and killed my allies and I forgave you. You charged at me with the intention to kill and I forgave you. All for the sake of an agreement to cease fighting and join forces against the dead. Now you have the audacity to show up here alone, no army in sight.”

Gold-specked emerald eyes flick up toward her, his cool demeanor deteriorating for just a moment to show the guilt and sorrow beneath, and yet she cannot bring herself to feel an ounce of mercy for him.

“My dragon died for this. Viserion died so we could present proof to your sister and convince her to set aside that war to come aid us in this one. And there is nothing to show for his sacrifice.” Rage pulses through her veins, almost blinding in its magnitude. “Tell me why I shouldn’t have you burned alive,” she says in a deadly low whisper.

Ser Jaime scoots forward on the stone slab, the movement causing Grey Worm to step beside her immediately, but he only means to look into her eyes and say earnestly, “You have every right to hate me but know that I came here to fight for the living. I gave you my word, Your Grace, and I intend to honor it.”

She all but scoffs. “Does your word mean much, Kingslayer?”

His eyes dim in resignation and then brighten with surprise when she speaks again.

“I know what my father was, why you did what you did. But I also know that you stood over his corpse and let those monsters rape Princess Elia before murdering her and her children — an innocent woman, a three-year-old girl, and a baby boy at his mother’s breast.” Her voice becomes strained with emotion and she almost wishes that Jon were here to continue but knows she must do this herself. “How am I to know that you’re not here to have another Targaryen killed, for your beloved sister this time instead of your father?”

It takes him a moment to respond, head bowed in dejection when he does. “For what it’s worth, I _ am _ sorry for what happened to them. I had promised the prince that I would protect his family with my life and I’d failed. There was no stopping Gregor Clegane or Amory Lorch.” _ No stopping Tywin Lannister_.

“I have no reason to betray you, Your Grace,” Ser Jaime continues, staring up at her with barely masked desperation.

_ Desperation for her to believe he is honest or simply desperation to live? _ she wonders.

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t get very far, would I?” He adds, nodding toward Grey Worm.

She isn’t amused but holds his stare and watches as it goes from pleading to… something else. Not the crude, lustful leer some men have looked at her with, but an unoffending gaze that merely studies her face.

“In a simple gown like this, without all those braids you wear in battle, you look just like her, you know.”

_ Who? Cersei? _

“Your mother,” he says gently, sensing her confusion. “When I first saw you across that field, I couldn’t believe the resemblance.”

Her breathing goes still with an imperceptible gasp. Her lungs then fight for shallow breaths as she frantically clings to each word leaving his mouth.

“I thought you looked like her then but seeing you now,” he says, waving a shackled hand up and down by the wrist, “It’s as if Queen Rhaella herself has appeared before me.”

_ Is this some cruel game? Provoking the most vulnerable part of my heart to coerce me into trusting you? _Foolishly, perhaps, she doesn’t care so long as he continues.

“They say that your father was promising and good until the madness took root but I saw him for what he was since the day I arrived at the Red Keep. Their marriage was not a happy one, to say the least. I’ll spare you the details but know that if I had to kill him again, I would do so without hesitation.”

His voice cuts through the air like steel, sending a shiver down her back and causing sorrow to bloom in her heart.

“Your mother, however, remained good, kind, _ strong._ She may have had no love for her husband but she loved her children deeply. Including you, of course.”

Viserys rarely spoke of their mother and she had stopped asking about her after realizing that it would _ wake the dragon _ as it was her fault that she was dead. Any stories that she remembers, she’d begun to disregard once Ser Barristan had told her than King Aerys hadn’t been just and compassionate as Viserys would say. If her father’s nature had been so contrary in reality then perhaps her mother’s had too.

Aerys had been mad, Viserys cruel, and Rhaegar a rapist, if the Northmen were to be believed, but _ someone _ in her family had been entirely, purely _ good_. The knowledge means more to her than she can ever impart in words.

“Can you tell me more about her? And Rhaegar? Did you know him well?” She tries not to sound like a little girl, desperate for something, _ anything _ on her family. Growing up, and even still, they had all seemed like distant _ figures _ instead of real people with real lives and feelings and characteristics and mannerisms and so on.

He obliges, speaking for what must be hours but leaving none of her questions unanswered. She’s careful to only ask about the light subjects, good things that will bring her joy to think upon.

When the time to depart comes, she thanks him with her queenly mask back in place, a small gesture to remind him of who she is now, and rushes back to her chambers. There, dinner long forgotten, she meticulously records all her new findings, covering page after page with each detail, lest she ever forgets. 

Almost giddy with happiness, she waits for Jon to join her in her chambers so she can share all that she has learned but he never does show up. So, with a slight twinge of disappointment, Dany blows out the last candle and retires for the night, exhaustion eventually pulling her under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alllll of these characters have so many connections that the writers just kind of forgot existed so i really wish that at least this one had been acknowledged in the show.


	3. make it last forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they kill the night king and defeat the army of the dead yay then this takes place the night before the final battle with cersei for kings landing

“We really should be asleep,” he laughs into her hair, hugging her flush against him as she brings the furs over them. The worst of winter has passed but their tent’s canvas walls do little to protect from the lingering chill. A more serious note takes his voice as he adds, “We’ve got a war to win tomorrow.”

The reminder forms a tight knot in her belly and judging by the way he slightly stiffens beneath her, they must have the same effect on him too. “And we shall,” she tells him, pouring confidence into her words to soothe both herself and him because, above all else, Dany has faith in _this_.

He’s right, though; they really should be getting all the rest they can but hours have passed since they resigned to their tent for the night and sleep still evades them. It’s been an easy cycle of kissing and fucking and basking and conversing that’s left her feeling tender and loved in more ways than one. Somehow, Jon Snow has worked his magic to make her feel more at peace than ever just hours before battle.

She lifts her head from his chest to catch him gazing down at her. The one flickering candle provides enough light for her to make out that they are far too worried and brooding for her liking.

“Jon?” she breathes, her own brows furrowing.

He answers by gently rolling her onto her back and sliding down her body until his face is in line with her belly, a hand caressing each side of the gentle swell there.

It makes her heart clench to see him so and know he’s scared when there’s nothing she can do to ease his fears. Her fingers simply card through his hair, catching in the tangles there thanks to her own ministrations.

A moment passes as he, most likely, sends a prayer up to his Old Gods and only the sound of the wind whistling past their tent penetrates the silence.

That is, until, he murmurs, “I love you,” against her navel. A pair of soft lips press a firm kiss there before he shuffles back up and lays his head against her chest, arms looped under her shoulders to hold her close. “_So_ much.”

“I know,” she whispers back. “Just as I love you.”

At this, he shakes his head, his beard scratching at the already sensitive skin between her breasts. “You don’t understand, Dany. If anythin’ happens tomorrow, I would be so… _lost_.”

The all-too vivid image of the same happening to him flashes before her and she clamps her eyes shut against it and the ripple of hot pain that shoots through her heart.

“You can’t think like that, Jon,” she manages to say. There’s so much more she wants to tell him, assurances she needs him to know, but it does no good to dwell on the devastating what-ifs just as it does no good to cling to the past.

“Think of something happy,” she urges instead, forcing an optimistic lilt to her voice even as it pains her. “Tell me about… tell me about where you see us in ten— twenty years.”

The feel of him smiling against her skin is enough to bathe her in a new warmth.

“Gods, just the fact that after tomorrow, we have nothin’ but _this_ ahead of us is…” he trails off, sighing in bliss.

Sure, they’ll still have the task of ruling seven bloody kingdoms but she knows he yearns for reprieve from war and battle. She knows how it has burdened him since he was barely a man grown and so the promise of tomorrow has her feeling at peace with all that has brought them here.

“Twenty…” he muses, shifting onto his side beside her and gently gliding a thumb back and forth against the side of her belly. “This little one will be all grown. I can’t even begin to fathom that. We’ll — well _I’ll_ — be grayin’ and old.”

“Not _so _old,” she giggles, hands still buried in his hair, nails grazing his scalp every so often.

“No,” he agrees, now smiling wider. “I hope that we are happy. I hope we can address the immediate issues and get the fuck out of this godsdamned country. I’ll plant you a whole grove of lemon trees and we’ll spend our days tendin’ to it and all our babies.”

“_All our babies_? Exactly how many have you got in mind, husband?”

“Three, five, ten? I don’t know,” he laughs and it makes the chilly tent that much warmer. “Even if it’s just this one, I wish they have a _good_ life. I honestly don’t even want for them to have to rule… to sign their life away from birth with the weight of seven kingdoms on their little baby shoulders. If they grow up and realize that they really do want it, then I suppose that’s a different matter. Am I makin’ any sense?”

She hums a _yes_ for she knows all too well what it means to be predestined to such responsibility. Even if Viserys hadn’t inculcated the importance of their name and blood into her from a young age, whatever power that courses through her veins and has allowed her to bring dragons into the world certainly does push that duty onto her.

“There are other ways to choose successors,” she says, thinking back to a much different conversation under much different circumstances with Tyrion. “The Night’s Watch has one method, the Ironborn have another. Or perhaps we can even let the people choose.”

“You think so?”

She shrugs but her mind is already sprinting. Could it work? Once she breaks the wheel, must her children carry the task of ensuring it stays broken? A voting system like they have for the Night’s Watch seems exemplary — giving the people a voice, allowing them autonomy in their governance — but she cannot help but picture how devastating it could be as well. Those higher up will manipulate those who know no better, houses will rise and fall over a cursed throne, and the game will resume, a new wheel will roll on.

Jon brings her out of her thoughts as he whispers a soft, “Hey,” and brushes his lips to her temple. He knows her so well and she’ll never be able to show him the extent of her gratitude for loving her so. “Tell me more. Where’ll we live? Somewhere warm, I hope.”

“Hmm,” she wonders, thankful for the distraction. “Braavos comes to mind but it is far too crowded for that grove you promised me and you know damn well I’ll hold you to it.”

He smiles, saying, “Aye, I do.”

“When I was younger, Viserys and I had to flee from Volantis but didn’t have enough coin for fare all the way to Qohor so the captain made us get off at this little town along the Rhoyne, though I don’t even know if you can call it that. All the buildings were collapsed and burned long ago but there was a beautiful stone ghat — these long steps leading down to the riverbank — where we slept. And on the other side of the river was a massive field, like the Dothraki Sea but greener, more alive with flowers of every color and butterflies and such. At night, I would fall asleep watching moonlight and wind making it ripple like the Rhoyne itself. I don’t know why I remembered it just now but it seems a fine place for our grove, don’t you think?”

She feels, more than sees, him nod in agreement before a comfortable silence befalls them. At last, he says, “I could listen to you speak forever if you’d let me. All these places you tell me about… I feel as if you’ve lived ten lifetimes when I couldn’t even do one right.”

The quip earns him a good smack on the shoulder that he laughs off before kissing away the pout on her lips.

“We’ll go there and wherever else you’d like once all of this is over. You’ll be Captain Dany and it’ll just be us and our boat.”

“You’re suggesting we spend weeks sailing there? Are you a dragonrider or not?” she jests. It’s hard to decipher how much of it he truly means and how much is him building this vision for them to have something more to fight for when it will seem as if all that exists is the battle raging around them. Either way, the dream springs a new hope within her.

“Aye,” he whispers, now leaning closer to her ear, “But I happen to have quite good memories of us and boats.”

It earns him another light smack on the arm as a giggle erupts from her and she turns to hide her face beneath his neck.

The prospect is so peaceful she can’t help but allow herself to get lost in it a bit. A cottage overlooking the meadow, the laughter of a child splashing in the shallow waves, the kiss of sunlight on her skin, the arms of her beloved wrapped around her as they are now… their languid musings suddenly seem so _real_.

Any lingering worry over what is perhaps the most determinative day of the rest of their lives beginning in mere hours dissolves in that moment as they sink into one another and let sleep blanket them at last.

She dreams of spring and home and the sweet smell of lemon blossoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws this out there and rUNS*

**Author's Note:**

> i know a lot of you are probably tired of fix-it fics but this is honestly just some cathartic writing.
> 
> also, the chapters are not separate from one another so the events of one chapter do affect the progression of the plot but this isn't a full blown story that flows from chapter to chapter, just some scenes i wanted to see on the show.
> 
> let me know what you think? and yes i will get to rewriting flicker fade when my brain wants to cooperate :/


End file.
